


Date Night

by Gaffsie



Series: Nights [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Come Sharing, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Hand Jobs, Obedience, Riverdale Kink Meme, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaffsie/pseuds/Gaffsie
Summary: The movie is not very interesting, but Jughead is.





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](https://riverdale-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1356.html?thread=637772#cmt637772) kinkmeme prompt: "Betty likes testing what Jughead will let her get away with. 
> 
> One night, when they're at the cinema watching a really shitty horror movie, she reaches over and gives him a handjob.
> 
> He tries to stop her at first, but when she insists he lets her. 
> 
> She's watching his reactions, he's trying *so hard* to keep quiet."

This is nice. It's nice to be on a proper date – the kind of date kids their age are supposed to go on. The movie theatre is half-full, but Betty and Jughead are all alone in the back row. His left arm is resting on the back of her seat, a comforting weight along her shoulders. 

The movie itself is not much to write home about. Some third-rate _Blair Witch_ rip-off that can't hold her attention for long. 

She can tell that Jughead doesn't think much of the film either, because he keeps pulling faces whenever there's a shoddily edited jump-scare or clichéd music cue. He's probably drafting a scathing critique in his head, and she looks forward to listen to it later, over milk-shakes at Pop's.

She notes, with some amusement, that a couple closer to the front has started making out. Maybe they didn't think too highly of the night's entertainment either. She sneaks a look at Jughead, briefly imagining following their example, but his attention is on the screen. 

Betty wonders what it would take to move that attention to _her_ , where it belongs. Not much, she bets, because Jughead has this way of looking at her like she's _everything_. It always gives her a possessive thrill, that this beautiful boy is hers and hers alone. 

Suddenly that's all she can think about, and, decision made, she looks at him from the corner of her eye as she slowly moves her hand from her own lap to his knee. 

The effect is immediate. He doesn't look away from the bloodbath currently taking place on the screen, but his mouth turns up in a pleased little smile, and his left hand squeezes her shoulder in acknowledgement.

Betty smiles to herself, and casually moves her hand up his thigh. She can't really _hear_ him over the screaming from the terrified heroine, but she can see his mouth open on a small gasp when she reaches his crotch. Her smile twists into a smirk. 

She can feel his dick through his jeans, and she traces the shape of it through the fabric with her fingers.  
Jughead exhales shakily and reaches out, grabs her hand, tries to move it back to the relative safety of his knee, but Betty's not ready to relinquish her prize.

He's looking only at her now - _good_ \- so she catches his gaze easily, holds it, and gives a small shake of her head. When she moves his hand back to his right knee and pushes it down there, he doesn't stop her. There's a plea in his pretty blue eyes, but she ignores it.

She gives his hand a consoling pat, and then she moves back to his crotch, gives his dick a gentle squeeze, and feels it twitch against her hand.

His mouth has fallen open, and it's like she can hear his breathing – growing more heavy by the minute – even over the din from the movie.

He's growing hard from her touch, and she helps him along, caressing that firming ridge until he's fully erect, dick straining against the denim. 

Jughead's got a death grip on his knee now, fighting his instinct to stop her, and it makes her squirm in her chair, knowing that he's trying to be good for her. The darkness in the theatre is both a blessing and a curse right now; a blessing because it keeps them hidden from everyone else, gives them an illusion of privacy; a curse because it's hiding _him_ from her. She likes to imagine that there's a flush of embarrassment mixed with arousal on his face right now, but she can't _know_ and that frustrates her.

She's gotten very well acquainted with the workings of his pants during the months they've been together, so it's quick work to open his fly and tease his dick out through the opening in his boxers.

His hips raise helplessly to meet her when she gets her hand on his naked dick. She watches herself jack him for a while, noting the way he has to fight himself not to fuck up into her hand, the way the head swiftly grows wet from precome. Thoughtfully, she drags her thumb through it, spreads it around a little. This too, is well-trod ground for her, so she fixes her gaze on his face instead.

His eyes are stubbornly locked on the screen now, but his gaze is unfocused, pupils so large they've almost swallowed up the blue of his irises. She toys with the idea of making him watch her, but decides that she can be magnanimous in victory, granting him this small kindness. Besides, if someone were to look over, it looks a little less immediately suspicious this way.

He's biting his lip, no doubt to keep any noise from spilling out, and she wonders if his teeth will leave marks. She can't really decide if that's something she wants or not. It would be better if it were _her_ teeth.

She knows how to get him off quickly, and how to prolong the pleasure, but right now it needs to be efficient. Later, when they're really alone, they can take their time, and she can keep him on edge for as long as she wants. 

She looks down at her hand, and gives him a couple of determined tugs, and then his thighs are tensing up and he's coming all over her palm, and she's. catching .every. single. drop. 

She considers wiping her hand on the back of the seat in front of her, but when a quick glance around the room reassures her that no one's paying attention to them, she raises the hand to her mouth instead and quickly licks off the evidence of their little tryst. 

A good girl wouldn't like the taste of him in her mouth. A good girl wouldn't give her boyfriend a handjob in a movie theatre either. Betty's never been happier that she's not a good girl. 

She doesn't swallow though, not because she's a good girl, but because she'd much rather meet Jughead in a kiss, have him lick the taste away. So she does, and he complies, eagerly even, kissing her deeply and gratefully, until her mouth doesn't taste of him any more.

When she pulls away, she notices that his hand is still on his knee where she left it, and she feels a stab of arousal in her cunt. His dick, now soft and vulnerable looking, is still peeking out of his shorts, but he's not made a single move to cover himself up, because she hasn't given him permission to.

She does it for him, gently tucking him away and doing up his fly until every trace of any illicit activities is gone.

Then she snuggles into his side, still not giving much of a shit about the movie, but enjoying the feel of his sweater-covered shoulder against her cheek, his arm tight and safe around her.

It's nice.


End file.
